


milk

by wuphf



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, M/M, tw self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28280790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wuphf/pseuds/wuphf
Summary: "you got any music? it seems really quiet in here.""we could talk." jim suggests, and ryan knows he's half-joking, but it's still terrifying to think about.
Relationships: Jim Halpert/Ryan Howard
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	milk

**Author's Note:**

> named after milk by sweet trip ................ also sorry for not posting in like months i've been trying not 2 k*ll myself

days at dunder mifflin go slowly. they always have, but ryan thinks as time passes they get slower and slower, probably because the same things happen every day. jim pranks dwight. angela and dwight not-so-stealthily sneak down to the warehouse to do god knows what (everyone knows what). michael tells the same ten jokes over again. creed makes subtly terrifying remarks that would have freaked ryan out a few years ago, but are more comforting than anything else at this point. ryan doesn't even fully know what he's supposed to be doing at dunder mifflin. all he knows is he spends most of his time in a fucking closet, playing video games and watching porn and doing basically anything other than work.

sometimes he's disappointed by how pitiful he is. he knows he shouldn't be shocked- he's been a loser since birth and not once in his life has he done something that hasn't ended in flames. his dad walked out on him and his mom when he was thirteen, and he can't even blame him. for the next five years, he tried his best to fill the void left by his father- tried his best to be the strong male figure in the household. his therapist says that's probably why he acts like a pathetic fucking child now. well, not in so many words. ryan's not strong. no matter how hard he tries he's not. he never was. he prides himself in never crying in front of other people as if he doesn't fall apart as soon as he's by himself. he doesn't know how to handle his emotions. doesn't know how to take out his anger, or his sadness, or any other negative feeling that comes his way. he's had scars on his wrists since he was fifteen years old and his blades have become such a crutch at this point he thinks he might need them more than he needs his mom. no one at work (besides kelly, obviously) knows ryan cuts himself, but he knows none of them would care. he also knows how much kelly likes to talk, so maybe she's _not_ the only one who knows anymore. the first time kelly saw ryan's scars she was too busy taking off her clothes to ask about them. the first time she mentioned them it triggered a thirty minute fight mostly comprised of ryan telling her that it was none of her fucking business whether he was okay or not and that if she wanted the kind of relationship where you talk about that sort of thing she was sleeping with the wrong guy.

some days go quicker than others. days when ryan talks to jim, even for a second, are better than other days. ryan knows jim doesn't like him. he likes to think he's good at acting like the feeling is mutual. the thing is, it's really, really, not. ryan remembers how when he first started working at dunder mifflin, jim was his only friend. well, friend is funny word. jim was the only person he could have been friends with. they talked, sometimes. more than they do now. they liked each other. they clicked. ryan knows exactly when he screwed up their relationship. he knows exactly what he did and he hates himself every day for it. he knows that he shouldn't have been such a dick when he was at corporate. he knows he shouldn't have terrorized jim just because he was upset about his and pam's relationship. he knows what he did and he spends way too much time wishing he could go back in time and change it. he still sees jim the way he did all those years ago. he still sees him as his funny, non-threatening, perfect, normal friend. he tries not to think about how jim must see him, but he still does. he cares enough to feel sick to his stomach thinking about it, but not enough to fix himself. part of him thinks he couldn't if he tried.

some days, ryan has it in him to pretend he thinks he's better than everyone else. today is not one of those days. his eyelids feel heavy. he can't focus- not on work. not even on distracting himself from work. he tastes a million emotions on the tip of his tongue, but he can't quite get himself to feel them. he never can. it's nearly noon when michael calls him into the conference room.

he finds himself sitting next to jim- it's not something he consciously chooses to do, it just ends up happening. he looks at jim. his eyes don't leave him for almost a minute. it takes jim making eye contact for him to turn away quickly. the sheer awkwardness of the interaction makes him want to bang his head against a wall. after a few seconds of staring at his hands, he looks back up to jim.

"hey," he says. he doesn't know why he says it. he doesn't want to say anything, doesn't want jim to look at him again. he almost catches himself, but it's too late, and it just results in him half-whispering the word. he feels like he's about to vomit as jim turns to looks back at him.

"uh, hey." he responds. ryan can't tell whether jim wishes he would shut the fuck up and leave him alone or if he just couldn't care less, and the thought of either of those things makes him feel faint. he wants to stand up and run back to his closet and never come out again, but he stays put.

michael takes an obnoxious amount of time explaining that he wants to have a pre-christmas party because it 'deserves more than one day', which leads to him asking if that was how hanukkah started, which leads to him proposing the idea that they should throw a party for every day of hanukkah, which leads to toby telling him that hanukkah ended a few days ago.

long story short, toby ends up back in the annex long before everyone else gets to leave.

"so, pre-christmas. angela, phyllis, can you guys get this place decorated in under thirty minutes?" michael asks hopefully.

"absolutely not," angela responds sharply, "we don't even have decorations."

"okay, well, that's not my problem. just get it done." he orders. ryan sighs. "what else, what else... ooh, we need booze. ryan, jim, how about you two run out and buy some tequila?" 

"that job could easily be done by one of us," jim points out. ryan nods.

"i don't really think two hands are gonna be able to carry ten bottles of tequila, jim."

ryan's eyes go wide. "ten?"

"you're both going."

"i'm not going." ryan says.

plot twist: he does go.

"this is fucking stupid. we shouldn't have to do this. what the fuck does michael even need so many bottles of tequila for? not even meredith is gonna drink that much, and even if he thinks she will he should get it himself. fuck him. i'm so sick of his bullshit." ryan rambles. he trains his eyes on the quickly passing buildings outside his window and tries to act like he's not nervous to be driving alone with jim.

"c'mon, you're not happy to get out of there? i'm always up for a break."

"i mean, i don't know," ryan plays with his sleeve anxiously, "i guess i was kind of overreacting."

jim chuckles.

"you got any music? it seems really quiet in here."

"we could talk." jim suggests, and ryan knows he's half-joking, but it's still terrifying to think about.

"about what, halpert? about how much time you waste antagonizing dwight for no clear reason?" ryan responds, trying painfully hard to keep the joke going. he never was one for comedy.

"okay first of all, the reason is that it's fun, and second, i was going to talk about how in love i am with pam." jim laughs.

"yeah, i'd rather talk about how in love michael is with me. and i really, really, really don't want to talk about that." ryan tries to mask the annoyance in his voice, because _of course_ he would want to talk about her. nothing's ever _not_ about her. he feels sick.

"sure, ryan, 'cause you totally don't love how obsessed he is with you."

ryan snorts, "you're fucking crazy. i'm still not sure whether or not he's stalking me and he's also straight up sexually harassed me like twice."

"so, music?"

"sounds great."

"i'm pretty sure i have a strokes cd in the back seat," jim looks back quickly, "yeah, back left. could you grab it?"

ryan leans between his and jim's seats to retrieve the disk, and maybe he takes a few seconds longer than he has to, and it's not because he hopes jim is looking at his ass, but he definitely hopes jim is looking at his ass.

he sits back down. jim is looking at the road. ryan sighs. he looks at the tracklist on the back of the disk box. "is this the only one you have?"

"do you mean to say _is this it?_ " jim giggles.

"good one, halpert. seriously, this disk makes me sad. what else do you have?"

"nothing. c'mon, put it in, i wanna see sad ryan," he teases, "if you're not gonna put it in i will. or we could talk about my wonderful wife."

ryan rolls his eyes and puts the disk into the player. he holds his breath for the first ten or so seconds of the first song. he's already hurting by the time the vocals kick in.

"can we skip someday when we get to it?" he asks, looking away from jim to try and hide the sad look on his face.

"that's the best song on the disk, you're out of your fucking mind if you think i'm gonna let you skip it." 

"it makes me depressed, and i'm not about to lose my cool in front of you."

"you don't have any cool to lose," jim laughs.

ryan ignores him. "i used to love these guys."

"yeah, i remember that. you used to be pretty cool. you're kind of a dick now."

"good to know." ryan mutters, sinking into the seat.

"sooo, what's been up with you lately?" jim asks, obviously trying to kill the awkward energy between them. 

ryan shrugs. "same shit. i don't really do much other than, like," he spends a second trying to come up with something to say, because the truth is he doesn't really do _anything_ anymore, other than go to bars and drink way too much and occasionally go home with someone who's not his girlfriend, but he doesn't want to sound like a total loser, "write." he decides to say, even though he lost all motivation to write anything a solid three months ago and hasn't picked up a pen since.

"like, stories?"

"poetry, mainly. i'm not big on storytelling."

"cool."

"yeah. you?"

"i've been pretty busy raising my kid," jim sighs, "haven't really had time to do much else." 

"is it worth it?" ryan asks. he doesn't really care. he couldn't give less of a fuck about jim's kid. he likes listening to jim talk, though.

"i can't even put into words how worth it it is. she's so perfect. she's everything." ryan can hear how much he loves her in his voice. it's so sweet it's sickening.

"yeah, just wait till she hits thirteen. that's when they get hard to deal with. that's when you're gonna start wanting to pack up and leave."

"i'd never leave her. just 'cause you'd be a shitty dad it doesn't mean everyone else is." jim says. ryan can't tell if he's joking.

"i would never fucking do something like that." he picks at the fabric of his pants, "i fucking hate people who do that shit. doesn't matter, 'cause i'm not gonna have kids anyways. wouldn't want them to end up fucked in the head just because i have issues."

"are you in therapy?" jim asks jokingly.

"whatever."

they pull into the supermarket parking lot. neither of them get out. someday comes on. they don't skip it.

"i guess the one thing that i've been thinking about lately that kind of makes me not like having a kid is death."

"yeah?"

"yeah. like, i never used to worry about stuff so much. now i get worried i'm gonna die every time i do anything. i don't want to leave her. i don't want pam to have to raise her alone. i don't want her to grow up without me. i don't wanna miss her life, you know?" jim tilts his head to make eye contact. ryan doesn't know if he's ever heard jim talk so seriously before. it's unsettling.

"you're not gonna die, halpert," ryan chuckles uncomfortably, "i mean like obviously you're gonna die, but your daughter will probably be like forty by then. or older."

"i know. i just get scared."

"i'm not scared of death. like, i don't have the energy to kill myself right now but if anything happens to me i'm not going to try to stop it." ryan mumbles, looking down at his feet. he doesn't really know why he says it. jim is probably the last person he wants to be vulnerable around, but for some reason he thinks it might cheer him up to have a distraction. "i have such a fucked up relationship with life. it's like i'm just miserably counting the days till i die. that's all life is, right? waiting for death?" he looks to jim, half expecting a response. jim doesn't say anything. doesn't nod or shake his head, doesn't move at all. he just stares into ryan's eyes. ryan can't read his expression, and he's absolutely terrified of what he might be thinking. jim still doesn't say anything. "i think if you can be content waiting for death, and not want life to go faster, that's what happiness is. that's the best fucking thing you can get. but i'm not there yet." he laughs weakly. ryan wants jim to say something. he wants him to say anything, because fucking christ, his silence is driving him crazy and he just wants to be comforted.

after waiting for what feels like forever he continues, "i'm looking forward to death. that's the good part of life, i think. having something to look forward to. it's comforting to know that one day it'll all be over. sure, i wish that day would come sooner. i wish that day was tomorrow. or today. i'm not scared. but at least i know it'll be here eventually. that's the only thing you can really be sure of in life. death. you can't count on anything but death. like, one day, i will die. it doesn't matter that i don't know when it will happen, 'cause i know it will happen. nothing is more comforting than that."

"you're fucked up, man," jim lets out a laugh, but ryan can tell he doesn't find it funny. jim opens his door and steps out of the car, "come on, michael's gonna wonder what's taking us so long." he closes his door and walks to the other side of the car, opening ryan's.

"i'm not five years old, i can open my own car door."

"yeah, well you weren't."

ryan looks back down at his feet. "i think i'm in love with you," he breathes. he looks to his side and jim's already walking away.

**Author's Note:**

> this sucks and i didnt proofread so there's definitely typos anyways happy late hanukkah + happy kwanzaa + merry christmas


End file.
